When you’ve got dust ground into your Steve Madden flats, and powdered sugar smeared on your lap and your mouth, you know it’s been a good time.
|I liked these long-legged pumpkins featured in a student art|
exhibit at the Pumpkin Chunkin festival.
I’ve been in New Mexico for a conference, and I’m ending the weekend by visiting my friend Barbara and her parents in Albuquerque. This afternoon we attended the Pumpkin Chunkin contest in Estancia, NM. Pumpkins on the smallish side were “chunked” into the air with slingshots the size of small hammocks and a fleet of pneumatic cannons with names like El Launcho Grande and The Patriot.
The goal was to chunk one's pumpkin through a tire suspended between two poles out in the nearby field. Some pumpkins were launched with such force that they split in midair, or were impossible to detect before they hit the ground.
Barbara’s dad launched three pumpkins, and the second one nearly sailed through the tire.
Chunkin seemed too athletic for me. Or rather, I took chunkin in a different direction, as I ate most of a funnel cake (“funeral cake,” as my dad calls them) and tried not to get powdered sugar smudged all over my camera.
Barbara and I are racing tomorrow, so carb loading is in order. She’s running the Duke City Marathon, and I'm running the half.
|These rad headcoverings were|
for sale with other accessories
and foodstuffs at the festival.
Although I’m far away from home, any of my homes, I find something comforting in a small town festival.
My carryon luggage is already stuffed from yesterday’s thrippie haul at Buffalo Exchange (more on this another day). I couldn't help but browse the booths offering luxury sets of sheets, Pampered Chef, local jam, bread, honey, pinto beans, and, of course, pumpkins.
I wished I could carry a pumpkin back on the plane.
I did not know which to prefer, watching the large, warty pumpkins sun themselves in a truck bed, or cheering for the smaller ones shot into the sky.